Every Day Inspirations March
by madpsychogirl
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles about the relationships between our favourite characters.
1. Mar 1

_A/N: Hello March. And where did you come from?!_

* * *

_**March 1**_

"**It doesn't matter what you do for a living. What matters is how proud you are of what you do." - _Vernon Coleman._**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs loved the smell of sawdust.

He loved the feel of the grain under his fingertips and the bitter taste of bourbon from a mason jar that he always associated with it.

Most of all, he loved the solitude.

In his basement, there were no ringing phones or typing of reports. DiNozzo didn't complaining he was hungry every hour or throw occasional insults at McGee.

Then again, Gibbs felt himself miss certain parts of his day.

Like a kiss from Abby as a thank you for her Caf-Pow or the Director yelling at him for punching a reporter. Again. He missed Ziva cursing in Hebrew – he kept forgetting to ask her why she insisted on teaching insults to Tony, or if he'd simply just picked up on them considering she used them so often. He missed the short distance to Jenny's office – the fact that no-one disturbed her, giving them plenty of time to do what they wanted.

And every so often, his team would do something to make him feel a paternal sense of pride, a feeling he'd long since forgotten existed.

McGee standing up to Tony. Or Ziva finally being able to name more than 5 presidents for her citizenship test. Or Abby... Just being Abby.

One thing Gibbs did know was that despite the pain and loss he'd suffered over the years, the ache in his chest didn't hurt quite so much any more. Dare he say it, but the love for another family, as well as a certain woman in particular, filled the void.

It gave him reason.

A sense of pride.


	2. Mar 2

_A/N: Yes, I wrote this in my Forensic Biology lecture on Bioterrorism this morning. *grins* And? :P_

* * *

_**March 2**_

"**When you have difficulty saying 'no', think of how much more difficult things are likely to become if you say 'yes'." - _Vernon Coleman_**

"Ziva!" Tony whined quietly, poking a pen in her ribs for emphasis.

She caught it easily, not even looking away from the person in front of her. "How many times do I have to say no?"

"As many times as it takes you until you say yes!"

"That will not happen."

"Why?!"

Ziva muttered something under her breath in Hebrew. She had taught Tim _Krav Maga_ for a reason. Now, he had an advantage over the other man. McGee fought well – something that could one day save his life. And apparently, Tony did not find it fair.

"Why do we have to be here?" He carried on, nudging her again with his elbow this time. "I _survived_ a bioterrorist attack. I should at least be allowed to skip this class."

"Category A bioterrorism agents include anthrax, smallpox, plague and..."

"_See?"_ He leant back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, clearly sulking.

"Gibbs is here." Ziva pointed out, leaning back too.

"Gibbs is either asleep or getting felt up by-"

Ziva pinched the top of his thigh, silencing his words but earning a yelp of pain. "Shut _up."_

"Say yes." He hissed, staring at her with a glint in his eyes.

"No."

"Is there a problem at the back?" A few people turned as the spokeswoman paused to see what the commotion was about. Gibbs too.

"Okay, so he's not asleep." Tony noted, waving off the woman who carried on with her presentation. "I'm worried about how the Director is keeping him occupied because-"

Ziva pinched him again, a little harder this time. Leaning closer to run her lips across his neck, she stroked the length of his leg, stopping short of his crotch. "Shut _up._" She repeated, suddenly grateful they had chosen the back row.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, coughing nervously. "We're in a room full of people that can easily turn around."

She stroked him over the fabric of his trousers, kissing his neck. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Was that a yes?" She teased, applying more pressure as he bit his lip.

"No_._" He rested his left hand against her hip, scrunching her shirt in his hand. "_No._"


	3. Mar 3

_A/N: Apologies for the major delay – I'm up to date now... My muse left me and real life got in the way. Don't you just hate that sometimes? *hugs*

* * *

_

_**March 3**_

"**Only when you know why you do things will you know whether they are worth doing." - _Vernon Coleman_**

Jenny Shepard needed a strong cup of coffee.

Her morning had slowly gone from bad to worse. First, Cynthia called in sick, leaving Jenny to organize the rest of her day and handle the numerous phone calls generally diverted away by her trusty assistant. Then, SecNav had demanded a conference call regarding budget cuts and solved case rates. Plus, if the empty bullpen was anything to go by, Gibbs' team were out in the field. Another murder.

Jenny shivered as she closed her office door.

It was not a good day.

***

Gibbs had bought flowers for 4 women in his life. Shannon, Kelly, Abby and Jenny.

Glancing over the tulips and the roses, his eyes settled on a bunch of beautiful lilies. Their sickly sweet smell hit his nostrils, bringing a warm smile to his face. They were perfect.

Not quite stupid enough to walk through the bull pen to her office with them, he paid for delivery.

Jenny loved lilies. He remembered watching her play with the petals one summer afternoon as they walked through the busy streets of Paris. He remembered the soft glow of her cheeks as she'd blushed when he handed over the flowers a few hours later; mesmerized by the gleam in her eyes as she thanked him.

A little while later, he let himself into her office, coffee cup in hand. She looked stressed. Apparently, the person on the other end of the phone had made the mistake of questioning her authority...

Placing the cup down, he leant over to kiss her hair before leaving without a word.

He'd see her later anyway.


	4. Mar 4

_**March 4**_

"**All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." - _Edmund Burke._**

Sometimes, Timothy McGee wished Tony knew how to let something go and keep his mouth shut.

At least that way Ziva wouldn't, at this precise moment, have caught him in a head lock, yelping in pain and trying to fight back.

In the middle of the bull pen.

"Zivaaaaa!" He whined, placing his hands over hers in an attempt to pry her fingers apart. "The whole squad room is watching."

"I do not care."

"Gibbs is going to-"

"I do not care." She hissed in his ear, tightening her grip for emphasis. "Take it back."

"It's not my fault you can't take a _joke."_

"I saw it as a challenge, not a _joke."_ She mocked him, swiftly moving her body as he tried tripping her up. "You will not be able to get free."

Surprisingly enough, the day had started like any other... Until Tony decided searching through phone records bored him, so teasing his partner seemed the more entertaining choice. One wrong comment, a quick witted joke and a flying stapler later and here they were.

McGee could have stepped in. But then Ziva would kill him. He could leave. But then Tony would kill him. So he watched. And waited.

"You know I could get out of this if I wanted to." Tony tried to gloat, snaking an arm around Ziva's waist.

"Because you have done so well in the last few minutes." Ziva replied sarcastically.

"You're forgetting the one important factor from all of this that means you're going to release me in precisely 5 seconds."

McGee sat forward on the edge of his chair, intrigued at the way Ziva frowned. Tony mumbled something under his breath that only she could hear and sure enough, she let go. Straightening out his shirt and running a hand through his hair, Tony sat back at his desk while Ziva did the same.

They looked as though nothing had even happened.

McGee couldn't believe it.

"Probie!" Tony shouted, grinning like a fool as McGee almost fell off his chair. "Get back to work, McSlacker."


	5. Mar 5

_**March 5**_

"**Be good to the people you know. Take care of them and they'll take care of you." - _Asa Baber._**

Abby Scuito believed in karma.

She treated people how she expected to be treated herself – something her mother had taught that never failed. The relationships she'd developed over the years showed a clear indication how lucky Abby really was.

Gibbs bought her regular Caf-Pows, sometimes with a kiss depending on his mood. Jenny provided the maternal guidance and support the Goth often needed.

Like today.

Curled up in a ball under her desk, Abby tightened her grip around Bert's middle. The selection of cushions around her softened the hard floor, the regular make-shift bed used on occasion by various members of Gibbs' team.

Major Mass Spec beeped at her from across the room but she couldn't move.

"Hey Abby, why isn't there any music-" McGee stopped in the doorway – Abby could just imagine the confused look across his face as he took in her empty lab and the unattended beeping machine. "Abby?" He called, moving towards her office... tripping over the shoes she'd removed earlier.

"Under here." She mumbled, keeping her eyes closed.

"Why are you under your desk?"

Sitting on his hunches, McGee reached out to touch her just as she leant up to pull him down next to her. "My stomach hurts. I didn't want to tell anyone because they'll worry and it's nothing major. Mommy would send me home and Daddy would bring me a de-caf Caf Pow or soup or something, _then _send me home. Tony would try to make a joke and Ziva... I have no idea what Ziva would do actually. I just needed a cuddle with Bert and I'll be okay."

McGee kicked off his shoes, covering the length of her body with his. Wrapping an arm around her, he touched her stomach delicately. "I'll stay." He offered, closing his eyes too.

"Thank you." She whispered, the warmth of his body enough to lull her into a peaceful and relaxing doze.


	6. Mar 6

_A/N: Because my heart truly does lie with Tiva... :P_

_**March 6**_

"**Only when you have found something you are prepared to die for will you know what life is all about." - _Vernon Coleman._**

Anthony DiNozzo never understood staying in bed all day unless it involved three things – a movie marathon, breakfast in bed or sex.

His usual encounters with women never led to anything more than polite formalities the morning after but in recent years, there were only two women where this hadn't been the case.

Jeanne. And Ziva.

Learning from past experiences, Tony kept his heart locked away. Slowly but surely though, the assassin had knocked down every wall he'd built up over the years, leaving a man who became a nervous wreck when she went undercover without him or flying halfway around the world for vengeance against the man they believed to be her murderer.

For once, the team actually had spent their Saturday evening undisturbed, with no late night at the Navy Yard sleeping at their desk or brushing their teeth in the male restroom.

Instead, Tony let his eyes wander across the sleeping body next to him. Her dark hair spread across the pillow and bare skin contrasted the cream of the sheets beautifully.

"You are googling me again."

"Ogling." He corrected her, smiling warmly.

He wanted to touch her. To trail his hands along the curve of her body, remind himself of the evening they'd spent making love. He wanted to kiss her. Just because he could do it every day for the rest of his life without getting bored. He wanted to make her giggle. And knew the perfect way of doing it.

Trailing his fingers along her side towards her hip, he paused in line with her belly button. He felt her tense a little and leant forward to kiss her.

"I will hurt you if you even consider tickling me." She warned, a smile gracing her own lips.

Thursday in the bullpen, Tony had slipped a hand under her shirt and pinched her, while reminding her he knew just how ticklish she could be. It worked.

Kissing her slowly, Tony let his hands explore her body – hers resting on his chest as he pulled her closer to him.

Almost losing her had definitely made one thing clear.

He really couldn't live without her.


	7. Mar 7

_**March 7**_

"**The man who is pulling his own weight never has time to throw it around." - _Peggy J Rudd_**

"I said _no_, Probie."

"But Abby needs us!"

"And do you remember what happened the last time she needed our help? We ended up straddling, before being catapulted halfway across the garage."

McGee sighed loudly. He couldn't argue there. "She said to tell you she'd buy you dinner."

"Really?" Tony jumped up, heading towards the elevator before the other man could even reply. "Is she feeling better?" He asked as the doors closed, watching a blush creep along McGee's cheeks. "So McBlusher, what aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing."

"That was a quick come back." Tony shook his head, tutting patronizingly. "Don't let Gibbs see you react like that otherwise I think he might just kill you."

McGee scoffed, already familiar with the death threat that hung over his head considering his relationship with the favorite.

"My two favorite men!" Abby squealed as they entered the lab, hurling herself at Tony. "Well, two out of four anyway. Gibbs being number three. And Bert of course. Although, I guess that Major Mass Spec should be included as well as-"

"Abby." McGee interrupted her, throwing a cautious glance at the overalls she wore and the two shovels leaning against the nearest wall. "What are they for?!"

"We're going grave digging."

Tony punched McGee's arm, scowling. "We're _what?"_

"We need to dig a grave each." Abby explained like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Who did you kill?"

"Is it for McGee when Gibbs finds out-"

"Finds out what, DiNozzo?" The man in question appeared, earning the same greeting as the other two.

"Gibbs! We're going grave digging for an experiment so I can determine a time span based on our selection of suspects! Are you coming too?!"


	8. Mar 8

_**March 8**_

"**The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." - _Henry David Thoreau._**

"10 bucks says he folds in the next 5 minutes." Tony watched his boss through the glass window of interrogation, figuring he could try and make some money.

"That's a pretty large window of opportunity, Tony. Are you really giving this guy that much credit?" McGee argued, squaring up their suspect.

Gibbs didn't move. He simply glared at the man opposite him, waiting patiently. He had an idea as to the conversation his agents behind him were having, as well as the bets they would be making. If Tony bet on anything longer than 2 minutes, he was going to-

"Oh this is not good." Tony's jaw fell as the Director let herself into the interrogation room without as much as a pre-warning knock.

"Special Agent Gibbs, I have something you need to see."

He wanted to quote rule 22. He wanted to tell her she looked great in that suit. He wanted to push her against the wall and kiss her until his lips were sore.

He didn't.

Instead, he stood up and leant against the door, his face inches from hers.

"Kinda busy, Jen." He growled, with a slight hint of a smile.

"I just got a phone call from Tobias. Your suspect is wanted for murder."

"What are they saying?" Tony leant closer to the glass, only able to see Gibbs' back.

"I can hear just as much as you can." McGee countered, playing with the controls for the sound in the other room. "Let me see if I can..."

"You didn't knock." He reached out to take the file, brushing his fingers along her hand.

"Do you?" She teased. "I expect to see you in my office after this interrogation, Special Agent Gibbs."

Nodding, he closed the door behind her. "DiNozzo!" He shouted, his voice amplified by the fact that McGee had somehow turned up the volume, but still too late to catch anything. "Get in here to read Mr Samuels his rights. He's going to jail."

Tony let his heart rate calm and McGee to fix the sound before entering the room his boss had just vacated. "Where you going, boss?" He called down the corridor as Gibbs turned the corner.

Tony didn't really need to ask though.

He knew _exactly_ who Gibbs was following and where he was going.


	9. Mar 9

_**March 9**_

"**When you are getting kicked from the rear it means you are in front." - _Fulton J Sheen._**

Ziva David decided she hated exams.

Pushing the book in front of her across the desk, she stretched lazily, trying to ease out the ache across her back. Tony and McGee were out with Gibbs chasing down a suspect, while she'd been confined to her desk until she could name more than 8 former Presidents.

Apparently, Gibbs took the citizenship test extremely seriously. So did she, but felt confident she'd be okay. Her ability to remember and process information could explain her flawless planning on covert missions and gave her the edge she needed over the other Mossad assassins.

So why couldn't she remember 8 simple names?

"Agent David?" The Director smiled down at her, a look of slight confusion across her face. "Why are you here on your own?"

"I am not allowed back in the field until I can remember more than 8 former Presidents."

Jenny smiled. "Jethro is determined to see you pass."

"I am too, Director. I just do not understand why a test should decide my fate _and_ keep me stuck at a desk."

"I'll talk to him and see what I can do." The redhead promised. Ziva thanked her in Hebrew. "Would you like someone to test you?"

"I did ask Tony but everything ends with either a movie reference or-" She paused. "Would that be okay?"

Jenny nodded. "I have some time to help out a friend. Especially if it keeps me away from paperwork." The two women laughed together as they climbed the stairs. "I heard about your fight with Tony..."

"Which one?" Ziva asked, opening the door for her superior.

"In the squad room Thursday afternoon. Getting him into a headlock is pretty severe. What did he do this time?"

"The usual."

"I can imagine." Having settled at the table with the door closed behind them, Jenny slipped off her jacket and shoes. "Let's get started."


	10. Mar 10

_**March 10**_

"**Looks are so deceptive that people should be done up like food packages, with the ingredients clearly labelled." - _Helen Hudson._**

"Probie!" Tony barked, photographing the body in front of him.

"I'm right here, Tony." McGee gingerly rubbed his ear.

"Okay, I meant Probie number two." He shouted again, smiling as Ziva poked her head around the side of the van to glare at him.

"Is that such a good idea?" McGee hissed, watching her slam the doors shut. "She'll come after you again."

Tony snorted. "She has to be on her best behaviour otherwise she's office bound again."

"I'm going to talk to Carlson's CO. Be careful."

Again, Tony snorted as he went back to his photographs. As the senior field agent, he could have delegated the job to someone else but he enjoyed recording evidence. It reminded him of the old days when he fought for Gibbs' praise and mastered the art of judging the measurements of a woman – something he learned wasn't as great a chat up line as he'd originally thought.

Feeling a pinch at the back of his neck, Tony flinched. "Ziva!"

"You called?"

"Probie number one is talking to our man's CO. Gibbs is... around somewhere. That man disappears so fast I swear he... Why are you looking at me like that?"

Ziva's eyes were darker than usual, focused directly into his – a look he'd become all too familiar with lately. He couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Like what?" She purred, licking her lips. Tony gulped.

"We're at a crime scene." He reminded her.

"Last week we were in a seminar."

Oh _God._ That look. The one that made him tingle all over. The one that made his mouth dry and his heart race. The one that generally led to them losing items of clothing. _Fast._

"What do you want, Tony?" His raised eyebrow at the double meaning enough to make her laugh, just as Ducky and Palmer arrived. Groaning, he practically growled under his breath as she walked away.

"I'll get you back later, _David_."


	11. Mar 11

_**March 11**_

"**There are very few people who don't become more interesting when they stop talking." - _Mary Lowry._**

Cynthia Sumner found her job extremely entertaining.

Having worked with Director Shepard for so long, she could judge her moods and hence the manner with which a meeting would be held because of it. Although sometimes, there would be an exception.

For example, Special Agent Gibbs could improve Jenny's day with a cup of coffee or storm in and argue until he made his point.

Then, there were the days that Cynthia possibly heard a little more than she'd like, giving her an excuse to take an early lunch or a coffee break herself.

Today though, it wasn't Special Agent Gibbs who stormed past.

It was Tobias Fornell.

He waved in her general direction, rudely dismissing her protests.

"Good morning to you too." She mumbled, reaching the door before he slammed it shut behind him, already yelling at the Director.

"... that one of _your_ agents decided it would be a good idea to-"

"Coffee, Agent Fornell?" Jenny offered, interrupting his rant. He faultered, casting a glance over the pot she held. "Thank you Cynthia, but Tobias and I will be fine. We're going to discuss this in a civilised manner. Would you mind closing the door, please?"

Cynthia smiled warmly at her boss. "Of course, Director."

Settling back behind her desk, she continued filtering through various mail, removing all the junk from the important letters she'd pass on.

Agent Gibbs appeared a while later, two coffee cups in hand. Judging by his posture and the slight smile tugging his lips, he was relaxed and having a good day.

"Wouldn't go in there if I were you." She warned, smiling as he stopped – clearly not used to a warning with such humour. He raised an eyebrow in silent question. "She's with Agent Fornell. It's awfully quiet in there though compared to his entrance."

Smiling wider this time, Gibbs placed the cup in front of her. "She probably killed him." He answered bluntly, leaving Cynthia laughing at him as he left.


	12. Mar 12

_A/N: Again, I apologise. Whoever said that being a university student was easy, lied. Try third year Forensics, THEN say it. *shakes head*

* * *

__**March 12**_

"**Everything great in the world comes from neurotics." - _Marcel Proust._**

Timothy McGee always had a problem with authority figures.

They made him nervous. _Everyone_ made him nervous. Fair enough over the last year or so, he'd grown up a lot, standing up for himself more – especially with Tony. Despite that, it would always be there. The sweaty palms when he did a speech to the publishers of his novels or shaky voice if Gibbs yelled at him.

So, sitting in the Director's office waiting for the woman in question to return from talking to Cynthia outside, McGee forced himself to breathe slower... And stop jigging his leg up and down.

"Sorry Agent McGee, you have my full attention now." She took the seat next to him instead of the one behind her desk. That had to be a good sign... Right? "Do you know why I called you in today?" Maybe not. _Breathe, Tim. Breathe._

"No ma'am."

Chuckling softly, Jenny leant across the desk, handing him a wad of bound papers. "Jethro gave me this."

The uneasy feeling hit McGee like a ton of bricks. Gibbs hadn't. Had he?

_'The moans of pleasure Lisa made in his ear drove him crazy. Pining her against the-'_

Yes, he had.

"Director, I... This..."

"Relax Timothy, I rather enjoyed it."

"You... what?"

Jenny laughed, touching his shoulder. "I am very intrigued in the developing relationship between the two members of his team." McGee noticed she didn't specify _which_ team – Tibbs or Gibbs. He didn't ask. Instead, he exhaled deeply, not even realising he'd been holding his breath. Again, Jenny laughed. "Anyone would think I called you in for a disciplinary."

"I thought you had." He confessed, blushing slightly. "If you hadn't checked the email Gibbs sent you before you-"

"What email?" She cut in, clearly confused.

"The one Gibbs sent you with that file."

"He gave this to me personally. I only got an email containing witness statements that I forwarded on."

"What?!" He choked out, literally feeling his heart stop.

For a few seconds of sheer panic, he gaped at his boss... until she smirked.

"Kidding."


	13. Mar 13

_**March 13**_

"**Your only duty on this earth is to find yourself and live accordingly." - _Carl Jung._**

"Tell me Doctor, do you miss it?"

Jimmy Palmer followed his mentor through the uneven trail, pulling his jacket closer around him.

"Miss what, Mr Palmer? Be specific."

"Home. _Your_ home." He clarified, almost walking into the other man as he stopped in his tracks. "Is everything okay?"

Ducky touched Palmer's arm briefly, then carried on walking, slower this time. "Have you ever been to England?"

"No sir."

"It's such a beautiful country. Famous for its tea, or scones with cream and jam... A Sunday roast."

"A what?"

Ducky chuckled. "Imagine Thanksgiving dinner every Sunday." Palmer hummed with pleasure. "Exactly." The older man sighed. "Alas, my job drew me away. My mother too."

"Would you leave it all and go back?"

Ducky turned to the young man, a hint of humour across his tone. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Mr Palmer?"

"No no, of course not. I... I..."

"As much as I love my home country and my family roots, I love my job more. My friends. Even _you_ and your inability to read a _map."_

Jimmy laughed, blushing slightly. The two men fell into a comfortable silence, relishing in the crisp spring afternoon.


	14. Mar 14

_**March 14**_

"**Success is truly the result of good judgement. Good judgement is the result of experience and experience is often the result of bad judgement." - _Anthony Robbins._**

"We must be mad."

"Sssssh!"

"Probie, we're going to _die._"

"Shut _up_! You'll give away our position."

"We're up against an ex-Marine sniper and an ex-assassin. They already know _exactly_ where we are."

"This was _your_ idea."

Tony and McGee were hidden behind two trees within a few feet of eachother. Somewhere close, Gibbs and Ziva were also hiding, no doubt lying on their stomachs with a clear shot aimed straight at their hearts... Or their heads.

Tony winced. "We're mad." He repeated, peering around the corner of the tree.

He didn't notice Tim raise his weapon. He didn't realise he was in Ziva's line of sight until it was too late. Tony yelped loudly, the dark red paint smearing across his jacket as he stepped forward, arms outstretched.

"I give up. You got me, you win. We're never going to get you."

"Don't be so sure." McGee grinned smugly, eyeing the assassin's hiding place, waiting.

"What are you so happy about?" Tony grumbled as Ziva emerged from a group of bushes, gun resting on her shoulder. The yellow stain of paint caught his attention. "Did you shoot yourself? Or are you two practising without me again?"

Ziva smile, touching the paint in wonder. "Gibbs, you can come out now."

"Where is he?" McGee glanced around. "I guessed southwest."

"Thirty-four metres southwest." She nodded, leaving Tony gaping at her reply.

"You scare me sometimes. I feel as though we should have taken your guns off you to make it fair." He pouted, watching Ziva drop her weapon on the floor. "See, _now_ I feel more comfortable."

"Really?" McGee stared at the other man, disbelief written across his face.

The knife skimmed past Tony's ear before he even had a chance to blink, let alone squeal like a girl. Which he did, after his brain caught up.

Gibbs appeared then, mud across his face and a smile tugging his lips.

"Boss, this was not a fair split." The older man shrugged, briefly touching Ziva's shoulder in a silent gesture of appreciation. "Boss!"

"Home." He said, letting his team follow, just like they always did.


	15. Mar 15

_**March 15**_

"**The sad lesson we learn from history is that hardly anyone ever learns anything from history." - _Robert Beckman._**

"I'm grabbing something to eat from the vending machine, anyone want anything?"

Anthony DiNozzo used a number of ways to make paperwork bearable. Teasing Probie, taunting Ziva and junk food worked like a charm. This evening consisted of running phone records and all the other mind-numbing errands that were a nuisance but necessary.

"Don't pick a fight with it again." McGee joked, not even looking up from his computer screen. "You can't afford to break another finger."

Ziva laughed loudly, raising her eyebrow at her partner, daring him to try his luck.

"You got _shot."_ He turned on her instead of the other man, smiling now. "Out of the stupidest things that have happened last month, it's close top."

"At least I am not the one spying on Gibbs and the Director from Abby's hidden camera." Ziva argued, ignoring McGee's look of horror, too busy enjoying the wave of expressions as Tony digested the information. Confusion. Realisation. Glee.

"Ziva!" Tim hissed, mouth agape. "How do you know about that?"

"You think you are the only one Abby told? Anyway, I saw the camera myself."

Tony froze. "Wait a minute, where is this camera we're talking about?"

Throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder towards the elevator, McGee knew he was itching to go and check. "Why didn't Abby show me?" He exclaimed, missing the wink that McGee gave Ziva.

"Because there's very interesting footage of _you_ she caught too."

Tony took off in the general direction of Abby's lab, Ziva waiting until he was out of earshot before she spoke.

"Do you think she will show him the video?"

"I don't know. It was worth it to see the look on his face though." Tim smiled.

"He will be relieved that there is nothing incriminating on there."

"How do you know that?" He frowned, watching the mischief flash across her eyes.

"Because I removed it shortly after you installed it."


	16. Mar 16

_**March 16**_

"**Work is the refuge of people who have nothing better to do." - _Oscar Wilde._**

Once again, Ziva David found herself in the Navy Yard later than everyone else.

The rest of the team had left hours before, although she knew one person still on site – the reason she'd travelled back at such short notice.

Jenny Shepard hated asking for help. Ziva felt a sense of pride at her own ability to recognise the Director's tone of voice. Not only did it come from her training as an assassin, but also the amount of time they'd spent together on various undercover operations – one had to know their parter as well as they knew themselves.

So, climbing the stairs to Jenny's office, Ziva let her mind wander over the few times they'd shared an evening like this. Once revising for the citizenship test. Another that started as a 'disciplinary' and ended in the pair giggling like schoolgirls over a chinese take out.

Ziva's plans for the evening consisted of working out with her punchbag and cooking dinner. Instead, she looked forward to seeing her friend's face when she arrived with a thermos of hot chocolate and a pizza.

Sometimes the spontaneity of a night made it all that more enjoyable.

Knocking softly, Ziva let herself into the office before the Director could reply, already expecting to come face to face with a weapon at this late hour.

She wasn't disappointed.

"You'd think that being the Director would mean I trust the security around here." She said, her tone flippant despite the slightly tense composure Ziva couldn't help but notice.

"You can never be too careful."

Holding up her offerings, she smiled as Jenny closed her eyes to inhale deeply. "That smells _amazing_. I haven't eaten all day."

"I thought not."

The women kicked off their shoes and settled comfortably on their respective chairs – Jenny pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. Ziva smiled at the habit the redhead slipped into occasionally.

"You will not believe the day I've had." Jenny grumbled, taking a slice of pizza from the box.

"Tell me all about it."


	17. Mar 17

_A/N: Just to clarify, I had the idea to use Abby for this quote before the recent episode. Because of that, she know needs some serious fluff. Inserted here:_

_**March 17**_

"**Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you're a good person is like expecting a bull not to charge at you because you're vegetarian." - _Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan_**

Abby Suito growled at her computer screen.

Literally, growled.

Timothy McGee didn't know whether to turn and run or walk straight in and hug her.

"I know you're there."

Apparently, she made the decision for him.

Throughout the day, McGee had gotten regular updates on her disaster of a morning. This being the earliest he'd been able to get down to see her, the Caf-Pow and sandwich were a peace offering – hopefully something to make her smile.

As she slammed her fist into her desk and made a few hand gestures he was certain her mother hadn't taught her at it, maybe his plan wasn't going to work as well as he hoped.

"Abby?" He cautiously stepped forward, placing the food next to her. "Are you okay?"

Sighing deeply, she didn't say a word. Instead, she flung herself at him, pulling him into her. After a few bone crushing seconds, she loosened her grip and simply stood there, enjoying the feel of him so close.

McGee smiled into her hair as he felt her relax. Trailing circles across her back, he resisted the urge to close his eyes as she did the same.

"Nothing is going right today." She whispered, her fingers massaging the back of his neck, brushing along his hairline.

"I heard." He pulled her a little closer, not wanting to let go just yet.

"You always know how to make me feel better though." She looked up at him, smiling. Resting his forehead against hers, McGee smiled too. "Thank you."

"Anytime." He kissed her then, feeling himself melt into her – just like every time they kissed.

He did everything he could to make her happy, so that every day was a good day.

Because she deserved nothing less.


	18. Mar 18

_**March 18**_

"**Do not forget those who fought the battles for you, and bought your freedom with their genius and their blood." - _Emile Zola._**

"I promise you, I'm innocent! I didn't do it!" The young man shouted as Anthony DiNozzo slammed him against the side of the car, elbow digging into his back.

"Like we haven't heard that before." He clipped on the handcuffs, turning to check on his partner. "You okay?"

Ziva David wiped an arm across her face, clearing the blood from her nose. She nodded, and Tony wanted to give the guy something to complain about.

Or hand him over to the woman now glaring at the jerk who'd got one lucky punch.

"You are driving." She let him haul the guy into the back seat before throwing the keys at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He reached out to touch her cheek, concern in his eyes.

Again, she nodded. "I have had a lot worse."

The truth of her words hit him hard. Tony hated the fact he couldn't protect her. He hated the fact he'd turned into such a mess whenever she was in danger or close to it. He now understood the reason Gibbs had Rule 12.

Sometimes, he hated just how much he loved her.

The honk of the car horn bought him back to reality.

"We're not in any rush, Zee-_vah_." He watched her in his peripheral vision as she closed her eyes and leant back against the headrest.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I just-"

"Shut up." They both snapped, smiling afterwards.

"You need Ducky to have a look at that?" He nodded at her, wincing at the congealed blood she'd missed.

"No. I just need to throw that man in jail."

"I said I'm sor-"

"Shut up!" Again, the two agents silenced him.

"You're losing your game." Tony teased, not daring to watch her response... until she leant across and squeezed his thigh.

"Am I?"

Tony gulped loudly. "First you get grazed by a bullet, then McGee shoots you at paintball, then some dealer gets a lucky-"

Ziva squeezed a little harder... and higher. "I am not perfect."

"Could have fooled me." He smiled at her, his tone softening.

"Who _are_ you guys?" The guy from the back seat dared to speak – something he regretted as Ziva turned to face him.

"I will kill you." She threatened, her eyes assuring him of that fact.

Tony chuckled to himself as the rest of the journey stayed eerily quiet. One man scared for his life, the other avoiding damage to a certain part of his anatomy.

A normal day at the office, really.


	19. Mar 19

_A/N: As you may have guessed, things were crazy busy. I couldn't justify writing around 400 words for each EDT when my dissertation needed my attention and I couldn't seem to muster the same level of enthusiasm. So for that, I apologise. It's going to be a busy month for me but I'm back and I'm writing so yaaaaay! :) Thank you for your patience, you guys are great :D_

_Megan xx  


* * *

_

_**March 19**_

"**You must laugh and be cheerful 10 times a day or your stomach, that father of affliction, will disturb you in the night." - _Frederich Nietzsche._**

Abby Scuito couldn't sleep.

Her stomach ached, a dull pain that refused to shift. She squeezed Bert closer in an attempt to make herself feel better.

Clad in her nightgown, she'd stretched herself along the length of the couch, fidgeting to find the best way to lie without any pain. Nothing worked.

Dialling a number she knew by heart, Abby waited patiently for the man to answer, knowing he slept with his phone close by.

"DiNozzo."

"Tony, I'm sorry it's so late, or early depending on the way you look at it, but I need to talk to you."

"It's half two in the morning, Abs. Are you okay?"

He sounded groggy and his words slurred, thick with sleep. Feeling slightly guilty, she reminded herself to buy him lunch tomorrow.

"My stomach hurts."

She heard him shift, probably to sit up so he didn't fall back to sleep. "Do you need me to drive you to the hospital? Have you called Gibbs? Abby, are you _okay_?"

"The nuns have this saying that if you don't laugh a certain amount during the day, your body tells you so at night. It's an old wives tale, although why nuns believe them considering they're supposed to stay faithful to God I don't know. I'll ask them next time I see them. Tony, how many times did I laugh today?"

"Are you joking?"

"_Tony_!" She whined. "This is serious. I can't get comfortable and I can't sleep and if I don't get enough sleep then tomorrow I'll have to-"

"Drink more Caf-Pows than usual?" He provided, slipping back under the covers and closing his eyes. She could hear the content in his voice as he did. "Do you want me to come over and sit with you? We can make fun of McGee until you've laughed enough to feel better?"

Abby smiled. The twinge across her stomach wasn't as bad as it had been before. Tony really did work magic. And before she hung up on his soft snores, she told him so.


	20. Mar 20

_**March 20**_

"**To know that you do not know is the best. To pretend to know when you do not know is a disease." - _Tao Te Jing by Lao Tsu._**

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs hissed, making the younger agent flinch. "What the hell is going on? Where is McGee?"

Anthony DiNozzo closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow down. He needed to control his breathing otherwise someone would hear him and he'd give away his position.

The dealer from a few days previous had broken under Gibbs' interrogation and told them the location of a warehouse that would make the Director a very popular woman when SecNav found out the value of drugs they were about to seize and stop from entering the system.

That was _if_ McGee's plan pulled off. Judging by the shouting both men could hear coming from his earwig, apparently it wasn't going _quite _as smoothly as anyone had hoped.

"I don't know, boss. I'm on it." He hissed back, forcing himself to move. He dealt with situations like this on a regular basis. He'd faced the dirtiest fighters and most ruthless killers and still came out the other side smiling and quoting movies to them as he snapped on the cuffs.

This time though, the Probie had the lead. It was his chance to prove himself.

And something had gone wrong. Tony just didn't know _what._

"McGee, what is your location?" He tried, working his way through the back rooms, clearing them as he went. Silence. "Ziva, can you see him?"

"No." She replied quickly. "He has to be with the main dealer still."

"Perfect." He mumbled, quickening his pace.

A yell pierced the silence – one Tony seemed to almost get in stereo. McGee.

"We're coming in." Gibbs yelled, kicking Tony into gear. He ran towards the last place he'd left the youngest agent.

Two people were on the floor. Blood covered their shirts.

And neither of them were moving.


	21. Mar 21

_**March 21**_

"**Time is worth much more than money, so don't waste it – your own or anyone else's." - _Asa Baber._**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs leant against the wall, eyes fixed on his youngest agent.

Blood covered his shirt and arms. A bruise tinted his eye – one that looked like it hurt like hell. His lips were pinched together, his head bowed slightly but whether it was through exhaustion or shame, Gibbs wasn't sure.

The Director hadn't exactly been 'informed' of the mission into the warehouse. And seeing as someone had let slip that McGee was the lead, he was in just as much trouble as his superior. She'd called them in as soon as they'd got back, meaning that not only had she deprived him of sleep, he hadn't even been able to clean himself up.

Fortunately, none of the blood covering Tim was his. The only injuries he'd suffered had been from the punches thrown. A cracked rib. A black eye. A cut lip.

The other man had certainly come off worse though.

Ziva's martial arts lessons had saved McGee's life.

"Since when has it been _protocol_ to go past your _Director_ with the idea of bringing down one of the largest drug dens in Washington D.C?" Jenny all but yelled, pacing between the two men. She was pissed. Although, Gibbs couldn't tell if it was because she'd been bypassed with all information regarding their secret mission or if she secretly missed the rush of being in the field. "Do you realise how this makes me look? I get a phone call whilst in a meeting with the Secretary of the _Navy,_ to inform me that you're on your way back from bringing down the leader of the _p__az y amor hermanos_ and I am so out of the loop that I can't even justify this to the man in front of me. The man that, let me remind you, is in charge of every aspect of the Navy, including his employees and any action they carry out!"

Okay, she was _really_ pissed.

"He did good." Gibbs provided, watching as two sets of eyes fell on him. "He was the lead and the reason for the millions of dollars worth of drugs sitting in our evidence locker instead of on the streets."

McGee smiled, blushing slightly at the compliment. Jenny sighed loudly, sitting on the desk next to him.

Gibbs knew she'd already made her point and had no intention of chastising him any more. Her eyes gave her away.

"Go home, Agent McGee. Take tomorrow to rest and make sure Ducky has a look at those ribs of yours."

"Yes ma'am."

He stood up to leave, Gibbs following closely behind.

"You did good." She smiled as she settled back behind her desk. "Even if you did go behind my back, you made me proud today."

Softly pushing the agent out of the room, Gibbs gave Jenny one last smile before leaving her alone and escorting the hero of the day to Ducky.

* * *

_A/N: For those of you who are curious, I wanted to make up a gang name of my own that could have a humour value behind it. So, paz y amor hermanos means 'Peace and love brothers'. *giggles*_


	22. Mar 22

_A/N: My birthday :) Jake is my character. Pure fluff considering it is a present to myself. Also – thank you to a certain flamer for the influence for one of these lines! Couldn't have done it without you ;)  


* * *

_

_**March 22**_

"**To be without some of the things you want is in indispensable part of happiness." - _Bertrand Russell._**

Anthony DiNozzo loved days when the weather clearly showed summer was on it's way.

A crisp, spring morning shooting hoops with a friend from Baltimore PD.

Did it get any better?

"You're getting slow, old man." Jake Adler grinned as he dodged Tony's attempt at a block. "I thought you NCIS agents were supposed to be fit."

"I could lay you out on the tarmac without even flinching Adler."

"Suuuure." He drawled, laughing as his friend shoved him away. "You think I'd waste an afternoon of my vacation seeing you if I didn't think I could beat your ass?"

"Why are you in Washington for a vacation anyway?"

"Carly's parents live here, remember. It's more of a trip to see them."

Tony laughed, sharing a knowing look with his friend. "The joys of marriage."

Jake laughed too, throwing a bottle to Tony before taking a sip of his own. "I call a drinks break."

"Now who's getting old?"

The two men rested on the bleachers, letting the slight breeze cool the sweat from their skin.

"You're different." Jake noted after a few minutes of silence. "Good different."

"Things are going well." Tony smiled, thinking of his friends. His job. Ziva.

"I've seen that DiNozzo grin before." Jake nudged his shoulder, shaking his head. "You're like a horny teenager!"

Tony really did laugh then, shaking his head at the statement. "I feel like one." He confessed, biting his lip.

"You look happy."

"I look like normal." He argued, his voice thick with humor. "She's the strange one."

"I don't even want to know." Jake jumped up, stealing the ball from Tony's hands and sinking a shot that should have gone wide. "No more chick flick moments, let's play some ball."


	23. Mar 23

_**March 23**_

"**I attribute my whole success in life to a rigid observance of a fundamental rule: never have yourself tattooed with any woman's name, not even her initials." - _P G Widehouse._**

Abby Scuito flicked through the magazine in front of her, occasionally pausing to look over anything that caught her attention.

She wanted a new tattoo. Something small but tasteful.

"I've always wanted one on my foot." She told Bert, twisting the page so he could see. "Something like that one. But considering I always wear boots or knee high socks there wouldn't be much point, would there?" She paused. "_Although_, considering there are other tattoos of mine that even I can't see, it wouldn't matter really, would it? I would know it's there..." Holding up the magazine closer, Abby frowned. "What do you think, Bert? Yes or no?"

As always, Bert didn't answer. Then again, Abby would be extremely worried if he did. It made her feel better though, so she carried on. It wasn't as if she was expecting any other visitors this afternoon.

"I like the idea of getting something written this time. Not a name though, because who could I put, realistically?" She considered this. "There are so many saying that I like... Oooo Braille. Now, _that_ one looks amazing. This guy has his name tattooed in Braille on his wrist. Wow. I know it's pretty ironic considering that generally the only people that can read Braille are blind so wouldn't be able to appreciate it... But still. It's pretty." She smiled, taking a loud slurp from her Caf-Pow. "Hmm, I need a new one of these." She inclined her head towards her favourite drink. "Maybe I can bypass to Jenny's office on the way to get one – see what she thinks about the idea. Remember the last time I considered getting a new tattoo and asks Gibbs? That didn't quite go to plan, did it?" She sniggered, tucking Bert under her arm and her magazine into her lab coat. "Let's go and talk a walk shall we? See if we can get someone else's opinion..."

* * *

_A/N: A friend of mine actually does have his name written in Braille across his wrist. It looks amazing._


	24. Mar 24

_**March 24**_

"**Ignorance is expensive." - _Harry D Schultz._**

"What do we got?" Gibbs appeared in the bullpen, coffee in hand.

Tony smiled at the déjà vu and turned to the plasma. "Commander Richards, 36, stationed at Quantico for the last four months. Married, no kids. Immaculate record with two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan."

"Credit check?"

"I ran the Commander's bank records and he's in a lot of trouble. Overdrawn in two accounts, maxed out three credit cards because of a number of pretty substantial payments over the last few months, to an account belonging to Miss Georgina Wells." McGee explained, putting up her picture.

"Mistress." Tony guessed, whistling. "And an expensive one at that."

"She lives in Vegas." McGee argued, highlighting the address on the woman's driving license.

"Stripper turned mistress then." He carried on, missing the look Gibbs gave him. "Just because he lives two and a half thousand miles and a seven hour flight away, it doesn't mean-" A headslap silenced him. "Sorry, boss."

"Not every married man in the Navy is having an affair." Ziva defended the Commander, glaring at Tony.

"Sure seems like it with the number we come across." He argued, turning back to McGee. "Keep going Probie."

"There are no records of flights out to Vegas or any transactions made out of the state in the last year. I cross checked her account and she hasn't left Nevada since she moved there six years ago."

"It could be his daughter and she changed her name." Ziva thought aloud. "Or a relative."

"Get the wife in and let's find out if she knows anything." Gibbs kept his eyes fixed on the screen, looking for something to jump out at him. "Tony, take McGee. Ziva, you're with me. We're going to find out if the Commander can tell us something we don't know."

"Let's go, Probie. I'm driving..."


	25. Mar 25

_**March 25**_

"**What does not kill me makes me stronger." - _Frederich Nietzsche_**

The last time Leroy Jethro Gibbs had drunk too much bourbon, it hadn't ended well.

A man entirely capable of handling his liquor, he enjoyed the taste of the liquid against his tongue – the fact it lingered on his lips if he licked them.

Even better, Jenny's lips.

He watched her sanding the boat, dressed in a pair of his boxers and his infamous red hoodie. His eyes trailed the length of her body, drinking her in.

The way her hair moved as she did. The smell of the shampoo and soap drifting across to him, mixed with that of the wood shavings. Her shoulders – strong and determined. Her thighs...

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?" She teased, leaning back against the spine of the boat. Crossing her legs at the ankle, she licked her lips. Gibbs continued to stare, bringing the mason jar to finish the last mouthful. "You're drunk." She noted, watching as he shrugged his shoulders and made his way, slowly, to stand in front of her.

Pressing his body along the length of hers, he pushed her back so her body curved, exposing her neck for him to trail a line of kisses along her skin. Jenny rested her hands on his hips, digging her fingers into his skin as he moved his hips against hers.

She tasted like she smelt – soap, wood and bourbon. It was familiar.

"You taste like soap." He commented, feeling her laugh under him.

"You're definitely drunk."

"So are you." He argued, letting his tongue trail along her lips before her mouth captured his. Working his hands inside the hoodie she wore, he brushed his fingers over her breasts, hearing the breath catch in her throat. He smiled, pulling away so he could remove the layers separating them.

Sometimes, patience was overrated.


	26. Mar 26

_**March 26**_

"**Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." - _John Lennon._**

Jenny Shepard loved coffee shops.

The constant bustle of people, all going about their daily routines. Businessmen in suits. Students in jeans and hoodies. Mothers and babies.

The latter due to the dry weather bringing them outside and it seemed as though they were everywhere Jenny went too.

With her protection detail sat nearby, even a visit to the local Starbucks resulted in the need for the necessary security measures. The aroma of coffee soothed her, if a little distracting...

Sometimes, getting away from the office and the usual routine worked wonders. Like today for example. It started with a bang, that was for sure. Somehow, a reporter had released a video of a certain agent threatening another reporter. Cue the chaos.

Between that and giving a final warning to the agent in question, Jenny later opened a card from an old friend from college, showing the perfect family smiling back at her. A husband. Children. And, according to the letter attached, a successful career. A _life._

Jenny swallowed past the lump in her throat and the tears threatening to fall. She was stronger than this. Hell, she'd worked hard enough to feel damn proud of her position right now. The agency ran, most of the time, without any complaints. Gibbs and his team challenged the solve rate of any others in the state.

With such a booming career, the one thing she always fought for, why did her heart ache when she saw a mother tickling her baby and cooing away lovingly?

And why did it feel like she was missing out on something that had literally passed her by without any realisation?


	27. Mar 27

_A/N: Hello, work induced meltdown. Thank you for taking away my mojo. If you would kindly return it as soon as possible, I would be much obliged. Gracias. _

_A/N2: Also, if you could give me extra hours in the day so that I can watch the episodes of NCIS I'm behind on, that would also be great. Sometimes, being spoiler-free is irritating.  


* * *

_

_**March 27**_

"**If my doctor told me I only had six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster." - _Isaac Asimov._**

"Probie!" Anthony DiNozzo shouted across the bullpen, caught between dragging the man up from his desk and following everyone else out of the room.

"Just give me a few more minutes." McGee hissed back, eyes fixed on his computer screen, fingers desperately typing.

"What do you want me to do, _ask _the fire politely to stop coming this way?"

"It's probably just a drill."

"And it could be the _plague_ for all we know, so hurry up!"

"You can leave DiNozzo. I'll be right behind you."

Tony scoffed as he glanced around the deserted room. The fire alarm screeched in his ears, adrenaline running through his body even though it probably was just a drill. Sometimes, you just didn't know. His fingers tingled and his legs buzzed with the need to move. The fight or flight response. Right now, fight seemed the more appropriate choice.

"I will drag you from that chair if you don't move, McPain-in-the-"

"You're too scared I'd kick your ass all the way to-"

"McGee, DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled over the alarm as he approached. "What are you still doing here?"

"I needed to write this down, boss." Tim provided before Tony could say anything. "It was important."

"More important than your lives?" Gibbs grabbed the young man's arm, pulling him to his feet. "Do I have to remind you of the trouble you've been in this week already?"

The alarm stopped then, earning a groan from Tony who slumped into his chair. Gibbs simply glared at McGee, not letting go of his sleeve.

"Boss, I... I didn't think. I knew it would probably just be a drill and I _needed_ to write something down otherwise I'd forget it and you know that I wouldn't usually do anything like this but-"

Gibbs held up a hand to stop him. Letting go, he simply left in the direction of the elevator.

"One of these days you're going to get us killed." Tony mumbled as Tim carried on typing, the hint of humour clear in his voice. "But whether it's going to be by Gibbs or this new recklessness you've found, I have no idea..."


	28. Mar 28

_**March 28**_

"**It's probably true that hard work never killed anyone, but I figure why take the chance." - _Former US President Ronald Reagan._**

"This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, can I speak to General Harding please? Well yes, of course I understand he's extremely busy but I'm from NCIS. Naval Criminal..."

Tony hated chasing leads or checking alibis. No-one ever wanted to talk. Which didn't make sense considering it usually benefited the accused if they did. Take General Harding for example. His son had been arrested for murder and this would be the sixth attempt at calling him to reinforce the alibi provided.

Quite simply, it would make or break the case and tar Private Harding's credibility. Hopefully then, Ziva could get a confession...

"Really? Why thank you ma'am. And you are? Petty Officer Montana. Like the state. I'm sorry ma'am, no, don't hang up. What can you tell me about Private Harding? Really? Well, I think I may have to buy you a drink if that's true."

His team-mates appeared then, catching the latter part of the conversation. McGee didn't comment but the assassin at his side didn't look too best pleased.

Stepping over the papers scattered across the floor, Tim paced the length of the bullpen, getting his mind back into the case after their lunch break.

"Maybe if you put more effort into working as you do writing, you'll find something." Tony argued as he hung up, always the hypocrite with his feet up on his desk.

McGee actually wanted to punch him.

"Or you could help instead of flirting on the phone and watching me work."

"You call that working?" Tony pulled a face, grinning at the younger agent who simply glared back. "And don't even think about double teaming me." He jumped up, eyeing them cautiously.

"Ziva will hurt you." McGee lowered his voice and did his best mafia impression, earning a laugh from the woman in question.

Gibbs made his way down the stairs, barking for his team to follow as he passed.

"Boss!" Tony flew at his heels. "Our Private is a _liar..."_


	29. Mar 29

_**March 29**_

"**There are some ideas worth fighting for, and if you become a completely frightened and servile employee, a safe player at all times, you will become bored with yourself." - _Asa Baber._**

To determine whether a suspect's testimony is accurate, only one thing is needed.

Proof.

According to Corporal Pender, the deceased Sergeant had overpowered him and rendered him unconscious through physical force.

With a healing dislocated shoulder in a sling.

Always up for a challenge, the two agents involved in the case faced each other, smiling. This was going to be fun.

The more experienced fighter stood close enough to the man opposite, his breath warmed her face. She nodded, showing him she was ready.

He nodded back, centering his body weight and raising his fists, ready to fight.

She couldn't use her right arm at all.

This was going to be fun.


	30. Mar 30

_**March 30**_

"**If you must slander someone, don't speak it, but write it. Write it in the sand, near the water's edge." - _Napoleon Hill._**

"Abs?" Gibbs called, turning down the loud music as he entered the lab.

"Two seconds!" She called back from ballistics lab, something in her voice keeping him rooted to the spot instead of making his way closer. Sure enough, she emerged shrugging on her lab coat, pigtails slightly askew. "Sorry, this is Tim's fault, I told him not to-" She stopped as Gibbs glared, striding towards the room she'd left. "He's not there, he walked into me earlier and spilt my Caf-Pow down my new white shirt with the chains across the front. It's beautiful and my newest favourite but I couldn't tell him that because he felt bad enough already."

"Abs." He cut her off, nodding at the computer. "Did you figure out what the numbers mean?"

"Why else would I call you down here? Now, our victim had, as estimated by Ducky, a few minutes before he bled out. So he writes the following numbers in the sand as his dying last. I can't even imagine how scared he must have been to know..." She paused, casting a sideways glance to the man next to her. "Nutshell, right?" He nodded. "The first few are a house number and street number based on their co-ordinates. Then he writes three letters, P-E-N and the first four numbers of a service number."

"Pender."

"You know, I used to love playing on the beach. Making sandcastles and writing my name in the sand, watching the sea wash it away." Abby smiled as Gibbs did too, remembering the day he and Shannon had taken Kelly to the beach for the first time. She'd told him before bed that night how she loved the waves as they crashed against the sand and the feel of the spray against her face, making her bury herself into his arms and the crook of his neck.

"I love the beach." Abby repeated.

"Me too." Gibbs confessed, kissing her forehead and leaving her alone.


	31. Mar 31

_**March 31**_

"**If you limit your actions in life to the things that nobody can possibly find fault with, you will not do much." - _Lewis Carroll._**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs cast a glance over his team.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. If anything, things were normal today. Hunting down their suspect still, the agents were too busy for distractions. Although sometimes, that didn't stop them...

"I went skinny-dipping once." Tony announced unceremoniously to the team, not even looking up from the report he'd been scanning. "My Dad caught me, of all people. You know what he said to me?"

"Are you aware you're talking aloud, Tony?" Tim piped up, a look of confusion and entertainment across his face. Ziva on the other hand, simply smiled. Gibbs waited for Tony to continue, knowing the younger agent's boredom made him want to fill the silence.

"Forget it, I was just trying to make conversation."

"My father caught me stealing an orange from his desk once." Ziva admitted.

"But you're his daughter." Tim argued. "Did you still get in trouble?"

She nodded. "I had disrespected him."

An awkward silence fell over the group, no-one quite knowing what to say to that. Until-

"What about you Mc-Squeaky-Clean? You must have done _something_ unruly." Gibbs saw the blush across his cheeks, as did Tony. "How do I know this is going to be good?"

McGee glanced nervously over at his boss, clearly waiting for him to say something to stop the conversation. When he didn't, he turned back to Tony. "It doesn't matter."

"Did you get caught under the bleachers or something? The library maybe? Come on Probie, entertain us!"

Tony's eyes met Gibbs', who simply shrugged. Why shouldn't his team have a break? They worked damn hard and the work always got done... He must've needed another coffee. The caffeine withdrawal had screwed his brain.

"Yay or nay, Mc_Stud_..."


End file.
